


A Fox Minds His Business

by Sath



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Horse-Loving Elves, Nighttime, Sausages, The Tookland Natural Appreciation Society of Carnists, ToT: Monster Mash, Trick or Treat: Extra Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath
Summary: A fox passing through the wood on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed.‘Hobbits!’ he thought. ‘Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There’s something mighty queer behind this.’He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.- J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the RingThe astonishing and twisty tale of a fox who goes about his business.





	A Fox Minds His Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



The weekly meeting of the Tookland Natural Appreciation Society of Carnists was in an uproar. Badger, that known braggart and inventer of tales, insisted that he had seen Elves in the woods near Hobbiton.

“It is not that their passing surprises me,” said Badger, “but their route. The Fair Folk are in a hurry.”

“In a hurry to leave us to the Hobbits! Soon we’ll have no woods left, nowhere good to burrow and nothing but trash to eat,” Fox grumbled. He certainly enjoyed a nice meal of trash now and then, but he’d once spent a miserable winter with nothing to eat but Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’s leftovers and the occasional chicken. Fox was quite put off cheese for the rest of his life, thanks to Lobelia.

“We can’t ask the Elves to stay,” said Weasel. “They hardly talk to any of us anymore, unless we’re a horse.”

“Do we know any kindly horses?” asked Fox.

“Have you ever seen a horse in the Shire? We’ve got ponies, Fox.” Badger sniffed. “Farmer Maggot has a mule. Maybe if we found an Elf with bad eyesight the mule could speak for us.”

“Farmer Maggot’s mule only cares for herself,” said Weasel.

“I’ll bribe her,” Fox replied. “I know how to get into Maggot’s pantry.”    

Badger and Weasel wished Fox good luck; by the looks on their faces, they expected never to see Fox again. Farmer Maggot was a terror to Hobbit and animal thieves alike. But Fox was an incredibly clever fellow, and intrepid. The great energy a Hobbit spent defending his larder was soon spent, and a fleeing fox would turn around to see the doughty master of the house deciding that the best cure for frustration was a nap. Fox was, briefly, flummoxed by the sight of three Hobbits sleeping in the open, and wasn’t sure if he should take it as a sign that the world had turned too strange for him to keep any familiar part of it.

He pressed on. The lights were on in Maggot’s kitchen, and pipe smoke drifted through the open window. He smelled beer too, and as he crept closer to the window, he heard a welcoming snore. As long as Fox was light on his feet (and he always was, being a fox), Maggot would never know that it wasn’t Hobbits stealing his sausages. Fox climbed in through the open window and jumped to the floor, nearly landing in the middle of the pile Grip, Fang, and Wolf were sleeping in.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Fox whispered. Each dog turned a massive head towards Fox.

“Sausages?” asked Fang.

“Of course! Sausages for all of you, and the mule too!”

“I love sausages,” mumbled Grip.

Farmer Maggot had moved the sausages to the very highest cabinet, where only a Took might reach it without a ladder. That was no problem for a fox with friends, though. Wolf put his paws up on the counter as Fox vaulted over his back and slipped through the cabinet. He threw down three of Maggot’s finest sausages, which were inhaled in seconds by the devoted hounds. Fox took the last of the sausage in his mouth and headed out the window again, wagging his tail in thanks.

Mule stood indifferently in her stable, chewing on some hay with an expression near disdain. “Don’t go near the chicken coop,” she said. “I hate the noise of their screaming.”

“Oh, not today, dear friend,” Fox replied, speaking with difficulty around the sausage, “for I am already full of Farmer Maggot’s finest sausage, the kind stolen by Hobbit-children all over the Shire.”

“What do you want?” asked Mule, flicking one ear.

Fox laid the sausage down on the ground. “Your aid, my good lady. The Elves are leaving the world, and we all know what will happen when they do. Men will ruin everything. Hobbits aren’t so bad, but they really can’t compete with bigger folk any better than we can. We must petition the Elves to take us with them.”

“You want the Elves to pack up all the animals in the Shire?” She let out a bray of laughter.

“No, no, just us. You, me, Badger, and Weasel. They’re kind people—how could they say no to such a small band?”

Mule stepped forward and took a bite of Farmer Maggot’s sausage. “Oh, that’s good.” Fox yanked it back when she tried for another taste.

“No more sausage until you speak to the Elves. Some were spotted near Hobbiton. Elves love horses, and you’re as close to a horse as we can get out here.”

“I could crush you under my hooves and have all the sausage I want.”

Fox picked up the sausage and ran up to the top of her barn, far out of Mule’s reach. “You’ll never catch me, or this sausage!”

“Fine. I’ll go on your silly quest, but I want that sausage now. And you have to steal me more sausages along the way to Hobbiton, and then I want at least five links when we can’t find any Elves in the Shire.”

Fox tossed the sausage down to Mule. “I accept your terms.”

The very queer thing is that there were Elves lurking about Hobbiton, and they were quite enchanted by Mule, who reminded them a little bit, in certain moods, of Túrin Turambar. They listened politely to Fox's condemnation of Men, and axes, and the draining of marshes. The Elves sometimes showed their teeth, and at others, furrowed their brows. 

"You see," said Fox, "The Tookland Natural Appreciation Society of Carnists and Mules is in a pickle. Hobbits sleeping outdoors! We want no truck with what's to come. Your people have become quite kindly in recent years, and surely you can take pity on a few animals wanting to dodge something that is none of their business." 

"Well," said the only Elf with a beard. "It's not as if we lack the room." 

And that is how a mule, a badger, a weasel, and a very brave fox were granted passage to the Blessed Lands.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope reading this cheered you up - you deserve the best in this difficult time! This is not the best, but it is sausage jokes and a loving Túrin ref. Thank you Gileonnen for the beta!


End file.
